


Snow blind

by Colonel_Moriarty



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 22:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15129263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colonel_Moriarty/pseuds/Colonel_Moriarty
Summary: Jim and Sebastian's plane crashes in the icy taiga of Siberia. Injured and with hardly any provisions there doesn't seem to be much hope for them to fight their way back to civilization.





	Snow blind

Everything was a blinding white and Sebastian had to squint his eyes, finally lifting his hand to block some of the sunlight being reflected off the pure endless snow covering the ground into all directions. Then he could feel the cold bite at his body, making him force himself back on his feet. The movements caused him to grunt and wince as he felt sharp pain stab through his torso. At least one broken rib, maybe two. His ankle was burning as he hobbled towards the crash site, the white finally broken by pillars of off gray smoke. The small private jet had been broken up into several pieces from the impact and the sniper's heart sunk. 

Somehow he must have managed to get out after whatever had happened and fallen unconscious a few steps away. His memory was fuzzy, bits missing as he started to search through the wreckage to find the pilot, and more important, Jim. He found the first dead in what was left of the cockpit, eyes open, his spine and skull crushed, blood and brain matter splattered everywhere. Cold fear took hold of the tall man's body as he continued to search between broken seats and large shreds of metal casing until he finally managed to uncover the body of the consulting criminal. 

Jim was laying on the ground face down, his clothes ripped and torn, the snow around him soaked red. The sound being pulled from Moran's throat sounded like a mixture between a scream and sound of pure panic. Carefully turning the smaller man around his fingers started to flicker over the life less body, searching for a pulse and after finding it, weak but steady, for all possible injuries. He couldn't say if there was internal bleeding but Jim had a large gash across his chest and his arm was clearly broken, the bone not having pierced the skin but he could feel the pieces under the skin. 

Cursing he carefully carried him to one of the seats that was still in one piece, kicking it over so he could place the man on it. Then he started a frantic search for the first aid kit and whatever parts of their belongings had survived the crash. But the first aid kit was first and finally digging it out of more broken up pieces of the plane, cutting his hand by accident, he returned to where Jim's still unconscious body was sitting. Then the man was starting to visibly tremble and cough, eyelids fluttering as he tried to open them. Dark brown eyes stared up at the sniper who had found sterilized wads of cotton and a small bottle of disinfectant, ripping Jim's suit jacket and shirt open to clean up the long cut. The smaller man winced as the liquid burned on contact, trying to push at Moran's arm. 

“You're ruining my suit.” he slurred, then shuddered again before he suddenly hunched over and retched. 

Sebastian hurried to help him up so he wouldn't throw up on himself, Jim's elbow hitting his chest, making him take a sharp breath, black dots dancing in front of his eyes. Forcing himself not to scream out he waited for Jim to calm down again, his body collapsing back into the seat so the taller man could finish patching up the gash. Then he cut off Jim's sleeve and looked for something he could use as a splint. Jim was half conscious at this point, whimpering at the pain, unable to control his body at the moment. Once done he forced a pill down Jim's throat with a gulp from a water bottle. When Jim came around fully the next time he found Moran in a circle of opened luggage, stuffing things into his large military style backpack. 

“'Bastian...” The consulting criminal's voice slurred and sounded a lot more coarse than expected, trying to lift his left hand just to find himself unable to move his arm properly, eying the splint that Moran had fitted onto it. 

The sniper lifted his head and slowly hobbled over to the other man. 

“What happened?” Jim demanded to know then, licking his lips, the cold was already starting to make the sensitive skin crack, “'m cold...” 

Sebastian pulled the fleece blanket back over Jim's body. 

“I'm not sure. I doubt we were shot down so I have the feeling they either fucked with our plane or with our pilot.” he replied then, face tense with exhaustion and pain, breathing strained. “We're in the middle of God fucking knows where. I tried to pinpoint our location with my mobile but we don't get any reception here. Must be a damn blind spot.” 

His anger sounded flat and Jim pushed the blanket away again to grip the man's sleeve. 

“Tell me.” he demanded then which caused Moran to pause then press a hand to his own face. 

“For you- a broken arm, a concussion and a bad cut across your chest. I have at least one or two broken ribs and a sprained ankle.” he informed Jim, voice empty, “we don't have much food to take along, it's mostly bagged snacks but there's bottled water. We need to get to a village or any sort of housing quickly. I estimate it's around noon now. Before night falls it's important we find a spot somewhere where we could light a fire as we have no tents or sleeping bags.” 

Jim's expression never changed, obviously not concerned in the least or at least not showing it. Sebastian carefully pulled his sleeve out of Jim's grip. 

“I'll finish packing then we need to go. Guessing from where the sun is standing we are northeast of Moscow. How far northeast I can't tell. Depends whether the pilot tried to bring us here on purpose but didn't expect to die in this or not. In any case you shouldn't move much right now. I'll get you your clothes in a moment.” And then, noticing how Jim's eyelids were shutting slowly at times he added: “And no matter what you do, don't fall asleep, Jim.” 

“You're not my boss, Moran.” the other man muttered but heeded the 'order', watching the sniper sort through everything that had survived the plane crash. 

But he was less interested in the fate of his expensive suits as he was in noting mentally every time Moran's expression changed, trying to assess how damaged the taller man truly was. That their situation was dire didn't need a genius to figure out but with Sebastian injured everything was so much worse. Jim Moriarty was amazing with computers, with reading and manipulating people. But out here in the wilderness he was as helpless as a newborn, had little to no survival skills. In a city he'd make it but here was nothing but the snow, the cold and the sound of a few crows in the nearby trees that had not been destroyed by the weight of the plane. Curling up further under the blanket he waited until Sebastian was done. 

Then the sniper approached him again and half an hour later Jim was wearing several shirts and sweaters, the last one one of Moran's own, same for the second pair of trousers. The sniper had also found a pair of better suited shoes, getting dressed as well, finally taking care of his own cuts before he shouldered the backpack, another sharp inhale following. 

“Give me something to carry as well.” Jim demanded, his tone of voice, while exhaustion and pain bleeding through, not allowing any arguments. 

So in the end he had strapped several rolled up blankets to his back, the load not terribly heavy but his step was still unsteady. They followed the trail of broken branches and destroyed trees the small jet had left as Sebastian assumed this would be the best direction to follow to find their way back to civilization. He had his rifle ready, resting across his arms as he always kept an eye on Jim. The consulting criminal wobbled at times but pushed forward, not intending to become a burden to them. Moran was of course aware of Jim's stubborn approach to things but there was little he could do right now, feeling his own body not being up to par. 

But they both kept moving, the cold wind biting at their faces, the strips of cloth that functioned as a scarf hardly helping. The next two hours they were engulfed in a total silence as there was nothing around but the blindingly white. The sunglasses helped but of course nothing could curb that growing exhaustion that soon seeped into every bone of their body. Jim started to stumble and fall several times, at first refusing help to get back to his feet but in the end Sebastian was more or less dragging him along. In the late afternoon Moran realized that Jim couldn't go on any further and neither could he. 

In the distance he noticed a small rock, the top creating an overhang so that two people could crouch underneath and be a bit more safe from the harshness of the weather. With the sun settling the temperatures would drop even further and Moran's worst fears were for waking up next to Jim's frozen solid corpse. Shaking such thoughts off he managed to shove the other man underneath the overhang after moving as much snow away as possible, using one blanket for them to sit on and the other two being wrapped around Jim's shoulders for now. There was no way he could make a fire, there wasn't even any wood around. 

Taking a pack of dried fruits and nuts out of his backpack he forced Jim to eat some of them, handing him another painkiller and a bottle of water afterward. Ten minutes later the man's head was resting against his arm, Jim's eyes closed. Sebastian checked his pulse again, then tried to push back all his worries so he too would get some rest. Just an hour. For now they couldn't do anything else to protect themselves, and lifting the blankets he moved as close to Jim as possible, one arm draped around him before he too drifted off. 

When Moran came back to his senses it was in the middle of the night and the sound that had awoken him was a distant howling. Checking his watch he then looked after Jim again. The man's face was cold to the touch but his body still had some heat left, mostly leeching off of Sebastian's though. The sniper pulled his rifle closer, resting a hand on top of it, as he looked up to the starlit sky. Under any other circumstances Jim would have been delighted to see all the constellations so clearly. Instead the man was pressing subconsciously closer to Sebastian, trying to steal more of the warmth the sniper's body produced. 

Moran estimated that they could survive two, maybe three more days like this before the cold would get to them, leaving their extremities frost bitten and with Jim's broken arm and his cracked ribs there were other risks that would eventually slow them down or worse. He tried to force himself to stay awake, at least until he could tell whether the howling was getting closer or not. He had enough ammunition to deal with a small pack of wolves, granted it wouldn't do much if they all attacked at once. 

But Sebastian would rather save every bullet for possible game they might encounter. By now he was hellbent on making sure they survived. At least Jim had to survive. He was his bodyguard. He couldn't let the man die in the middle of fucking Siberia. While Jim wasn't afraid of dying itself, Moran knew that he'd quite be afraid of dying in an undignified manner. And this here was very undignified. Struggling to survive in the wilderness, never to figure out who had tampered with their plane. There would be no chance to take revenge either. 

Taking a deep breath Moran carefully slipped a hand under the layers of clothing to touch his ribs. A light pressure applied and he winced again. No. He had been right unfortunately. Something was broken. His ankle was worse though and he hoped the throbbing and the pain would subside until the coming morning. Somehow he had little hope however. At least the howling didn't seem to get any closer to them....


End file.
